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Sunday, 30 June 2013

Moving to Honduras - Page 4

Written by Treva Wynn
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"Casa Blanca, it's in El Progresso!"

She replies some inaudible curse words as she informs her traveling partner.

"Okay, don'- move! We'-e coming to -et you!"

Hallelujah! It wasn't a scam!

I sprinted to my room and shoved the few things I had removed, back into the old luggage. I attempted to take it all down myself, but when I was spotted walking down the stairs looking like a suitcase monster, the same teenage boy came running up to relieve me. I walked up to the front desk with much more confidence this time. I got some place to go! The faux confidence drained immediately once I realized I couldn't explain why I was leaving after twenty minutes, where I was going, or who with. I again shrugged my shoulders and held up my hands. She nodded in comprehension. Seriously!? I offered some U.S. dollars, and she politely shook her head and smiled. Again, I had the chance to use "Gracias!" Patting myself on the back, I exited the lobby and parked myself under the covered patio outside- next to those dreadful birds. 

After what seemed like hours (in reality, probably 30 minutes), a taxi pulled up in front of me. Two girls got out, saw me, and smiled in relief. I on the other hand, sprung out of my seat like a child. I ran over to them and wrapped my arms around them both. At this point, I didn't care why they weren't at the airport, I didn't care how I potentially could have been killed- I was with the two people I had planned to be with and I was happy. After I released them, the introductions started. Kristen, from Chicago, fluent in Spanish. Awesome! Katie, from England, had just moved to Honduras a few weeks prior. We piled into our chariot, took off into the crazy traffic, and headed back into San Pedro Sula. After ten minutes of inquisition from both sides - myself and them, we all started to relax. Their bus had broken down during the five and a half hour journey from the town they volunteer in to San Pedro. As we made our way towards the bus station, they took notice of a giant stadium filled with people.

"Oh man there's a football match tonight... I really would love to see one. I was a sport's journalist in my last job." Katie informed us in her adorable but don't-mess-with-me English accent.

"Oh, me too! But Treva just got here, I'm sure she's tired,” Kristen added.

I was in no place to irritate people any more than I already had. Naturally I responded "Me? Tired? No way. Let's go to the football (soccer) match!" In reality, I was exhausted. The mental trauma my brain had just gone through had not allowed my body any time to recover. We decided it would be best to go to the bus station first, drop off my things, and buy tickets for the last bus: one in the morning. I internally cried as I purchased the ticket that wasn't valid for another 6 hours... It's going to be a long night.  I had no idea how long.

(Page 4 of 7)
Last modified on Monday, 01 July 2013

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